Think Of Me
by awomanontheverge
Summary: Erin realizes, through painful means, that she would go to the ends of the Earth for her.
1. Chapter 1

Erin Gilbert does not have a massively huge, swooning like a teeny bopper over sparkling vampires, hopelessly devoted to you crush on Jillian Holtzmann.

 _Absolutely not._

She does not feel a prickle on the back of her neck and tingling in her fingertips when Holtz brushes against her mid-ghostbusting before launching into a barrel roll to approach the glowing blue presence in front of them. And she does not – oh god, she most _definitely_ does not – feel anything when Holtz jumps to her feet, turns slightly at the hip and winks at her before running her tongue over the side of her proton gun. She faces forward one again and cocks the gun. A single zap – it's quick and perfectly aimed, as if Erin would expect anything less from Holtz - and the ghost is captured, secure in the pack strapped on Holtz's back.

"Kickass!" Abby exclaims as she runs towards them from across the street where she and Patty had been in the midst of catching their own ghost. Abby approaches and pats Holtz on the back and then turns to Erin, who is still standing there, staring at the blonde scientist like a lovesick puppy dog. "I can see you were a _huge_ help here," Abby says with an eyeroll. She snaps her fingers in front of Erin's face, which seems to bring her out of her adoring haze.

Erin blinks a few times and stammers. "Uhh."

Holtzmann turns to her and smiles that goddamned dimpled smile that does so many things to her. Delicious, _delightful_ things.

Erin Gilbert does not have a crush on Jillian Holtzmann. _Absolutely not_.

 **-X-X-X-**

"Cheese or pepperoni?" Patty gestures toward Erin with a piece of each in hand.

"Cheese," Erin responds, not looking up from the newspaper she is thumbing through at the table. A beat, then she raises her head and squints. "No, wait. Pepperoni." She reaches out to Patty, who places two slices on a paper plate and slides it across the counter. Starving, she grabs a piece and eyes it like the juiciest piece of meat she's ever seen. Her mouth begins to water before she stuffs half the slice into her mouth and practically inhales the greasy piece of heaven.

"Anyone seen Holtzmann?" Patty asks.

"Last I saw, she was upstairs working on something," Abby responds while grabbing a plate of her own. "She's been in her own little world lately." Abby pauses. "Well, even more than usual for Holtz."

Patty snorts.

"I'll go take her a plate," Patty offers, grabbing the food in one hand and a cup of soda in the other.

Erin jumps out of her chair and snatches the food from Patty's grasp. "I'll bring it to her," she chokes out through a mouthful of pepperoni.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Gilbert," Patty laughs. Abby and Patty exchange a look before the taller woman steps back and puts her hands in the air. "Take it."

Erin smiles sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed by her outburst. She gulps, then opens her mouth to come up with some type of excuse, but the only thing that comes out is an awkward squeak of a laugh. She turns on her heels for the staircase and makes her way up toward where Abby saw Jillian working.

She barely makes her way up the stairs before she hears the familiar sound of tools buzzing away. Erin approaches the doorway and barely peeks her head through the doorway, instead giving herself a moment to admire. Holtzmann dances around the room, a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. She wears a pair of old, loose jeans, rolled up – perfectly uneven – that shouldn't compliment her figure but, good God, they just _do_.

Erin bites her lower lip and inhales slowly, as quietly as she can. She closes her eyes for a moment before taking a step forward into the lab toward Holtzmann, who is intensely focused on a cacophony of pieces parts spread across the experiment table. She's bent slightly at the waist against the table, trying to fit different parts into various slots before discarding incorrect pieces behind her with an indifferent toss over her shoulder. She's so engrossed that she doesn't even seem to notice Erin's existence.

 _Brilliant_ , Erin thinks to herself. "Hellooo," she sings, waving the pizza and soda slightly.

Jillian looks up slowly, then flashes that toothy smile that makes Erin melt like butter. No, her breath definitely doesn't catch in her throat as a result. _Definitely_ not.

Holtzmann's eyes sparkle behind yellow-hued goggles, which she promptly takes off and tosses aside onto the table. "Hiya."

Erin shifts her weight back and forth between her feet nervously and let's out a pained laugh. "I, uh. I brought you something." There's a long pause while Holtzmann just stares at her, smiling. "Food. I brought you food." Erin extends her hands out to give the grinning scientist the pizza and soda.

"Thanks!" Jillian responds, snatching each item out of Erin's hands. "The low fuel light was a' flashin'." She takes a large bite out of the pizza and chews loudly.

Erin laughs awkwardly again and locks her hands in front of her, not quite sure what to do with herself. She stares ahead and finally gets a good look at Holtzmann's outfit. Perfectly paired with the ratty jeans is a white and red t-shirt; it reads, "Ah! The element of surprise!" Erin snorts. So ridiculous, so classically Holtz.

Erin realizes she's just been standing there in the awkward silence, the only sound Jillian's chewing and swallowing. She takes a few steps to the right toward a pile of metal that appears to be Holtzmann's latest concoction. Curious, Erin reaches out to touch the contraption, but is quickly stopped by an urgent "Gilbert!" She pulls her hand to her chest and turns back toward Holtz.

"What?"

"It's urgent!" Jillian exclaims, pointing into her cup.

Concerned, Erin rushes over. She looks down into the cup of fizzing Pepsi and arches an eyebrow. "What, what is it?!"

"Look," Holtz whispers, inching her face closer to the drink. Their faces are close, their noses almost touching as the two women look inside the Styrofoam cup as if it were the goddamned Cave of Wonders. Erin can smell a mixture of coconut lime shampoo from curly blonde hair and greasy pepperoni breath. She should not find it enticing.

 _She does._

"What?" Erin whispers, her eyes looking up to meet Holtzmann's. They're strikingly blue and seem to shine despite the subdued lighting of the lab. Jillian parts her lips and flicks her tongue out slightly and Erin thinks she may kiss her – oh my god, what is she kisses her. Erin closes her eyes and oh so slyly puckers up.

Then, suddenly, Jillian blows into her straw and sends fizzy bubbles pooling over her drink and into Erin's face. Holtz finds it hilarious, a throaty laugh filling the space between them.

Erin sniffs and steps away, wiping a few drops of Pepsi from her face. "Ha. Ha. Hilarious," she grumbles. Holtzmann continues to laugh.

So much for kissing.

Erin clears her throat and rubs her forehead. "Well, I just wanted to make sure you had something to-" She stops as a pile of paperwork and blueprints catch her eye in the corner of the table. They're stacked in manila envelopes and folders with a few stray pieces peaking out of the corners. "What are these?" she asks, thumbing through the blue and white papers.

"Something," Holtzmann says quickly, grabbing the stack of folders and pulling them to her chest. She doesn't say much beyond that, but the look on her face tells Erin she's not exactly up to talking about it.

Her interest piqued, Erin steps behind the table where Holtzmann is. "Is this 'Something'?" She gestures toward a small instrument in the shape of a triangle.

This time, it's Holtz who shifts her weight back and forth on her feet. "Mmmm…hmm." She tosses the folders behind her, then gently swats Erin away and picks up a screwdriver.

Erin simply stares, expecting Jillian to elaborate on whatever it is she's been working on.

 _She doesn't._

There's a long silence before Holtz finally explains, "It's in the early stages." She taps her screwdriver on the table a few times before bending down and tinkering with the machine again. "I'm not ready to disclose it's exact purpose just yet. Pliers?"

Erin stands for a moment, unmoving, having simply basked in the wonder that is Holtzmann "inventing".

"Yo. E.G., phone home," Holtz teases, waving her hand in front of Erin's face.

She blushes before rushing over to the adjacent table to grab the pliers. "Sorry, I was just basking. I-I-I mean, thinking." Erin extends her palm forward and hands Jillian the pliers.

Holtzmann grabs the tool, but pauses for a moment to look at Erin. She smiles. "About what?"

You.

Me.

 _Inventing and chill._

"N-nothing," Erin stammers, folding her arms over her chest.

Holtzmann says nothing, simply salutes her with her free hand before turning back to the machine.

Erin is mortified. She's made a total fool of herself, with her stuttering and her staring and her….well, her general _self_. Why she ever thought there was even a chance of anything between of the two of them…she turns on her heels toward the doorway to the staircase. "Ok bye!" Erin says hurriedly, marching back to the doorway.

She barely rounds the corner before she hears it – the familiar zap of wires short circuiting. She'd heard it a million times before during Holtzmann's experiments – nothing to be particularly concerned about. But then she hears a bang, followed by a thump, and Erin knows something is different here. Something _not quite right._

She turns around and half enters the room, leaning the right side of her body into the doorway. Then suddenly, time stops. Her heart pounds in her ears and her whole body shakes and shivers simultaneously. Wires flicker and sizzle as they are engulfed into flames.

And on the ground, in an unconscious heap with several burns and what appears to be a wound to the forehead, is Jillian Holtzmann.

Erin is paralyzed, her head screaming for her to just fucking _do something_ , but her body frozen. She half expects Holtz to jump up with a classic "gotcha!" or finger guns or something. She'd murder her afterward, sure, but at least she would know she was _ok_.

"Jesus Christ, Holtz, get up," Erin thinks to herself, her nails digging into the doorframe as the fear continues to freeze her in place. "Get up."

She doesn't.

 _Erin screams._


	2. Chapter 2

Hours pass, but the sound of sirens still buzzes in Erin's ears. She looks around the hospital waiting room, so white and crisp and clean despite the darkness that happens behind these very walls. Patty sits across from her, feigning interest in one of many magazines stacked on a nearby table. Her eyes dart up each time a doctor walks by, hoping that it's one with news about Holtzmann.

Erin does the same.

Abby is a total wreck, bouncing from nurse to nurse demanding to be given information about their teammate. She slams her fist on the receptionist's desk and demands answers.

"Ma'am, please sit down. As I've told you before, the doctor will be out to see you all as soon as he has an update. Now please, go back to –"

Abby grunts and storms out of the waiting room, slamming the door open as she does so.

Patty sighs. "I'll go talk her down. She's just scared." She returns the magazine to the table and stands slowly, her hands on her knees as she rises. She steps forward and takes Erin's hand, giving it a little squeeze. "You gonna be ok?"

Erin sucks in a deep breath, then holds it. She nods.

Patty squeezes her hand a little harder. "It's not your fault, you know. Holtz, she….there's nothing you could have done differently. It's shocking she hasn't done more damage sooner."

Erin exhales, then bites the inside of her cheek. "Not exactly helping…" she grumbles, and Patty laughs nervously.

"Yeah, too soon…." She lets go of Erin's hand and scratches the back of her head. "She'll be ok. You'll be ok. Once I talk Abby down from shootin' the receptionist with a proton gun, she'll be ok too." Patty smiles and turns. She gives Erin's shoulder a little squeeze before making her way toward Abby.

Guilt. It creeps up Erin's neck, behind her ears and across her cheeks. If she'd left the machine alone, not asked questions, Holtz would probably still be back in the lab, tinkering around with the other dozen contraptions slowly coming into fruition.

Or she could have _done_ something instead of standing there screaming like a child, waiting to be rescued by her teammates. Holtzmann would have rescued her. Holtzmann would have bounded through fire and lightening and winds and hail to rescue her. Instead, she sat there, frozen, watching her colleague unconscious on the floor. If it hadn't been for Abby and Patty…

"Ms. Gilbert"? A deep voice approaches her chair and extends a hand. "I'm Dr. Pierson. You were listed as the point of contact upon Ms. Holtzmann's admission. Can we speak for a moment?"

Erin leaps from her seat. "Can I see her? Where is she? Is she ok?" She hasn't even heard an answer about Holtz's condition and she already feels like crying.

"Ms. Holtzmann is resting now. She has a few burns, but the area of biggest concern is the injury to her head." Dr. Pierson fumbles through a clipboard of papers in his left hand. "She appears to have suffered from some blunt force trauma. Do you have any idea what happened, exactly?"

Erin pauses for a moment. "She was finding new ways to hunt and capture ghosts" doesn't exactly seem like the best way to fill the doctor in on _Firehouse Kablamo 2016_. "Holtzmann – Jillian – is a scientist. She was working on a new invention."

" _Not exactly a lie_ ," Erin thinks to herself.

"I'm not exactly sure what went wrong," she continues. "I only heard the aftermath. There was a pop and a bang and then…" Erin looks away and the image of Holtzmann unconscious on the floor creeps to the forefront. She shivers and folds her hands across her chest, rubbing her hands up and down over her arms.

Dr. Pierson scribbles something down on his clipboard, then clears his throat. "Alright. Would you like to see her? She's going to be a little groggy but-"

"YES." It takes all of her willpower not to catapult down the hallway to find Holtzmann on her own.

They walk in silence down several sets of hallways toward intensive care. It's oddly quiet, and it makes the back of Erin's neck itch.

"Room 151. Jillian Holtzmann." Dr. Pierson motions toward the door.

Erin takes a deep breath and enters the doorway, terrified at what she may find on the other side. She's hoping for the usual Holtz, who, she decides, would be playing with her hospital bed – up, down, up, down – or secretly slipping off her heart monitor to scare the total crap out of all the nurses around her. Yes, she assures herself, that's totally the Holtz on the other side of the door.

"Holtz?" Erin says quietly as she steps further into the room. Her heart skips a beat and her breath hitches when she sees Holtzmann tucked into the tiny hospital bed.

Holtz's eyes are closed and her breathing is slow but steady. Her hair – slightly singed at the bangs and hairline – is knotted and draped lazily across the poor excuse for a pillow that props her head up. A thin plastic tube rests between her nose and upper lip, and Erin can hear the monotonous "whoosh" of the oxygen machine pumping a steady stream of air into Jillian's nostrils. Blood stains a thick bandage spread across her forehead, and ash colors her cheeks and neck. Erin is slightly furious that they haven't cleaned her up more…made her more comfortable and at ease.

"We've got her on some pain medications as well as some antibiotics to fight any infections," Dr. Pierson explains, stepping forward toward the IV bag that hangs on a bar next to Holtzmann's bed. He squeezes the bag slightly and checks the IV line that ends tucked into Jillian's hand. Erin winces at the thought.

She reaches out and hesitantly traces a finger across Holtzmann's arm, bare from mid arm to her fingertips where the flimsy hospital gown doesn't cover. "Can she hear me if I talk to her?" Erin asks innocently. She's a scientist – she generally knows the answer – but she asks anyway.

"Oh yes. She's just resting," Dr. Pierson laughs slightly.

Erin doesn't find it funny.

Any anger toward the doctor instantly disappears when she hears Holtzmann stir slightly.

"Holtz," she almost exclaims, and it takes all of her strength not to hug the other woman so tight and never let her go. She's not hers to keep, Erin reminds herself, but that doesn't mean she ever wants to let her go.

Holtzmann blinks a few times and looks around, slowly taking in her surroundings. Her facial features go from dazed to confused to terrified. Her eyes widen. The pulse on the heart monitor skyrockets. Erin has never seen Holtz like this, and it scares her.

"Is she ok?" Erin asks the doctor, who moves closer to the bed and places his hand on Jillian's shoulder, trying to calm her.

"Ms. Holtzmann, it's alright. Do you know where you are?"

Holtz tries to speak, but it comes out hoarse and intelligible. She swallows slowly, deliberately, then shakes her head.

"You're in the hospital. You had an accident."

Holtzmann doesn't respond.

"You were working on something new," Erin interrupts. "For weeks, really. Very engrossed. You weren't ready to talk about it, much, but you seemed very excited about it. I was just-"

"Who are you?" Holtzmann croaks, squinting her eyes.

The words knock the air out of Erin's chest. "Erin? It's…it's Erin? Erin Gilbert?"

Holtzmann nods her head a few times, slowly.

Erin sucks in a deep breath, ready to give Dr. Pierson a piece of her mind – ask what the _fuck_ is going on here – when Abby barges into the room, with Patty only slightly behind.

"Holtz!" Abby roars, marching to the bed. "You ok?!"

Erin eyes the blonde, who, despite her usual cool and suave demeanor, looks positively petrified.

"Alright, let's give her some space," Erin interrupts, pressing her palms against Abby's back to usher her out of the room. The doctor follows suit behind them.

They shuffle into the hallway.

"The human mind is extremely fragile," Dr. Pierson begins.

Abby and Patty look at one another, confused. It's only a beat before Abby is barely a foot away from the doctor, losing her cool. "We're _scientists_. We know that. What the hell are you talking about? Why can't we see her?"

Dr. Pierson interrupts Abby's tirade of questions, raising his voice slightly. "Alright, everyone just calm down." His eyes dart to the side and quickly meet Erin's, who is burning hot with rage and irritation despite her cool and quiet demeanor. "It appears that Ms. Holtzmann has suffered a head injury as a result of the accident."

Abby's breath hitches as she inhales. "Oh my god…" She tangles her fingers in her hair and turns away from the doctor, shaking her head in disbelief.

"How bad is it?" Patty asks.

Dr. Pierson clears his throat. "She may be suffering from some temporary memory loss."

Abby lets out a cry. Patty gasps.

And Erin simply stands there, balling her hands into fists. Her nails dig into her palms hard enough that she will definitely have a bruise later.

"Listen," Dr. Pierson continues, reaching out his hand toward the group in a half-assed attempt at comfort. "We don't know the full extent of her injuries until we can talk with her a bit more. Right now she's going to be in a bit of a fog with the medications we have her on. It is best to let her rest and see what happens from there." He pauses. "I would suggest determining some temporary living arrangements. Ms. Holtzmann is probably going to need some additional care for a little while, and-"

"I'll do it!" Erin blurts out. She picks at her fingernail nervously before turning to Abby and Patty. "The whole thing is kinda my fault anyway. If I hadn't-"

"Erin, you know it's not…" Patty consoles, but Erin simply turns away.

"I'll do whatever I need to do to help her." Erin pauses. "To make this right."

Abby takes a step forward and grabs Erin's hands. "We _all_ will." She flashes a small smile.

The doctor smiles as well. "One of you can stay the night here with her. I'd suggest the rest of you head home. We won't know until morning, but I would bet your friend will be able to spring out of here soon enough." He taps his knuckle on his clipboard a few times, waiting to see if any of them have any questions. "I'll be back to check on her soon."

"I'm going to stay with her tonight," Erin insists, gently pushing her way between the two other women toward the hospital room door.

Abby sighs and grabs her best friend's arm. "Erin, you've had a rough day. Why don't you go home and get some-"

"No!" Erin barks, pulling her arm away. "I…I need to do this."

Abby opens her mouth to argue, but only a squeak of a protest comes out before Patty squeezes her shoulder.

"We understand," Patty says. She pauses, then looks at Abby sternly. "Right?"

"But…" Abby chews at the inside of her mouth angrily, then eventually lets out a muffled 'fine' before walking backward slowly to make her way toward the exit. "Anything happens – and I mean anything. As in, Holtz so much as chokes on some Jello, and you call us." She points her index finger out at Erin. "Promise?"

Erin chuckles. "Yes, I promise."

"Double pinky?"

She raises both pinky fingers up in the air and makes a 'U' motion with each before returning to the hospital room. Nervously, she makes her way back toward Holtzmann, who appears to have fallen back asleep. It's not surprising, what with the cocktail pumping through her veins.

Better living through science.

Holtz would appreciate that, Erin thinks. She logs it away and reminds herself to tell Jillian about it later.

She grabs a seat from the corner of the room and pulls it next to the bed. Sitting, she scoots herself as close as she can and watches with a mixture of fear and awe as Holtzmann dozes. It's not a peaceful sleep. Her forehead is wrinkled and her nose is scrunched slightly in what Erin can only think is a mixture of pain and confusion.

Tentatively, Erin reaches out and takes Holtzmann's hand in hers. It's cold from the IV that steadily drips into the veins there. She's never noticed how small and delicate Jillian's hands are. She'd expected them to be rough and calloused from her work, but instead they're smooth and soft. Then again, Holtz never falls into what is "expected".

Erin runs the pad of her thumb left and right over the back of Jillian's hand, a soothing gesture she remembers from her childhood. It may not have been all peaches and cream, but it was something comforting her mother used to do for her when she was sick. The movement is slow and steady, almost melodic.

She can't help but sigh in relief as she sees Holtz's face and body relax, finally creeping into a peaceful, much needed sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep is elusive, Erin finds, when your not-so-secret crush is lying in a hospital bed. It's that same sleep that taunts her through the afternoon and evening, edging her to the brink only to startle her awake with nightmares. The cycle becomes monotonous and, after hours of tossing back and forth in the horribly uncomfortable guest cot set up for her in the corner of the room, Erin decides to return to the chair at Holtzmann's bedside.

She watches with adoration and concern as Jillian sleeps. Carefully, Erin reaches out and strokes the other woman's hair, tracing her fingers through a mess of waves. She loses herself in a daydream as she curls her index finger around a longer layer that frames Holtzmann's cheek.

"Talk about bedside manner," a slightly hoarse voice teases. "A lady could get used to this."

Quickly, Erin snaps back into reality, gently pulling her hand away from Holtzmann's hair and back into her own lap. "How are you feeling?" is all she can manage to squeak out, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she can feel it escaping up her throat.

"Hungry," Holtz replies in true Holtzmann fashion.

Erin chuckles. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone to check the time; **9:00PM** flashes bright in fluorescent font face. "Well, I'm not quite sure that the food court is still open, but I can try and…" She blinks as she watches Jillian pull the thin hospital sheet off of herself and swing her legs over the side of the bed.

"Ready?" Holtzmann asks, wiggling her toes. She removes the oxygen tube from her nose, then slides the IV line out of her hand in one swift motion.

"Uh…we should probably talk to Dr. Pierson first," Erin warns as she stands from her seat.

"Pffft." Holtzmann blows a raspberry and rolls her eyes. She, too, stands from her own seat on the hospital bed – or, at least, attempts to. She's barely to her feet and stepping forward before she sways a little, bringing her hand up to cup the side of her head.

Instinctively, Erin reaches forward, swooping her hands around Holtzmann's frame as she falls into her. She slowly guides the engineer back to a sitting position on the bed and watches with the upmost concern as the other woman winces and gingerly runs her own fingertips across the bandage on her forehead.

"Take it slow," Erin says softly. On any other day, in any other place, Holtz would have winked or waggled her eyebrows suggestively at the comment; instead, she nods carefully and reaches for Erin's hand.

"Help me?" she asks.

Erin melts.

 _"Always."_

 **-X-X-X-X-**

"Where did you find the wheelchair?" Holtzmann glances up from the chair and looks at Erin, who is pushing her toward the brightly lit dining hall.

She most definitely didn't steal it from an old man who had left it in the hallway during his physical therapy.

 _Definitely not._

Erin pauses. "Better not to incriminate myself."

Holtzmann laughs and salutes. "Rodger that."

They make their way to the food court and, as expected for 9:30 at night, it's mostly empty. A few nurses pick at some soggy salads in the far right corner, and what seems to be a patient sits alone reading a book while sipping on a fruit smoothie. It's mostly quiet and there's little stimulation; Erin thanks the heavens for small favors. "What do you have a taste for?" she asks Holtz, who is eyeing the few options left from the earlier dinner menu.

"Well, ya know, the options here are endless," Holtzmann replies. "All _two_ of them."

Erin snorts. She grabs a tray and begins collecting an assortment of items.

"Oh, get some of those!" Holtzmann makes grabby hands toward a snack shelf.

"I don't think Flaming Hot Cheetos are part of the recovery diet," Erin teases.

Holtz shrugs.

 **-X-X-X-X-**

"How's your food? Everything you'd imagined?" Erin asks with a mouthful of Jello.

"Practically perfect in every way," Holtzmann responds cheerily, punctuating her words with a slurp of soda.

Chewing shouldn't be this captivating, Erin tells herself as she watches Jillian carefully eat a large pile of macaroni and cheese. She eats quickly yet purposefully, choosing which noodle to each next with the utmost precision. Melty cheese sticks to her lip, and Erin watches intently as Holtz's tongue peeks out and licks it away.

Suddenly, Erin wishes she was a melty piece of cheddar.

"Want some?" Holtzmann offers, extending her fork forward.

Erin scrunches her nose. "That stuff looks like nuke food."

Holtz laughs. It's one of the most beautiful things Erin has ever seen.

Despite Holtzmann's laughter, Erin is suddenly uneasy. She's not entirely sure what Holtzmann remembers – or, for that matter, if Holtz even truly remembers _her_. She desperately wants to ask, but it's been a long day, and she doesn't want to cause Jillian any more stress than she's already endured.

"It's fuzzy," Holtzmann says.

Erin raises an eyebrow. "Your macaroni? I can't say I'm surprised-"

"My head," Holtz interrupts, and once again she looks so helpless. She nervously chews on her bright red straw for a moment before continuing. "I don't really remember," Jillian confesses.

Erin feels her chest tighten.

"I…" Holtzmann looks down and picks at her fingernail. "I don't really remember what happened. But I _do_ remember you."

Erin beams.

" _Kinda_ ," Holtzmann continues.

Erin frowns.

"It's like…you're an outline," she explains. She glances up, her eyes meeting Erin's for the first time during the exchange.

"An outline?" Erin asks, hanging onto every last word.

Holtz nods. "Yes. An outline. You're there in my memories, even if I can't fully remember all the details."

Erin smiles weakly. "We'll just have to paint a new picture."

"Like one of your French girls?" Holtzmann grins, dramatically bringing her hand to her forehead.

Erin shakes her head and laughs as Holtz begins to hum to the tune of "My Heart Will Go On".


	4. Chapter 4

Dr. Pierson comes in early the following morning to check on Jillian. He gives her a quick examination – Erin watches with care and concern the whole time, knowing Holtz isn't one for strangers touching her, but she's a champ and smiles her way through it – and, once concluding she's doing well and in good hands, signs off for her to head home. He gives Erin some basic instructions and signs to watch out for. Confusion, headaches, mood swings are all typical in the aftermath of a head injury, Pierson explains.

Erin listens as the doctor goes on about wound care – "treat it with antibacterial ointment and redress it each morning" – and thanks him for his help.

"Give us a call if you need anything," Dr. Pierson says, scribbling a phone number onto piece of paper. He hands it and a collection of scripts to Erin before turning to Holtzmann, who is already halfway out the door. "Take care, Ms. Holtzmann."

She two-finger salutes the doctor, then smiles at Erin. "Ready to bust out of this joint?"

The pair makes their way out of the intensive care unit toward several sets of elevators that lead to the ground floor. Erin lets Holtz press the ' _down_ ' button – which she does approximately 4 times – "To keep it even," Holtz explains – and when the elevator arrives with a cheery ' _ding!_ ', they shuffle inside. They stand on opposite sides and Erin can't help but watch the other woman as she stares as the floor numbers change. Holtzmann's hair is pulled up in her traditional swoop, the perfect counterpart to the oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants Erin bought her from the gift shop to wear home. Despite the bandage on her forehead and the small burns across her cheek and neck, she shines; Erin doesn't know how it's possible, but the imperfections make her look even more perfect.

Holtzmann doesn't seem to notice her staring; instead, she watches the numbers intently and counts them down under her breath. When the elevator reaches "1", Holtz shuffles back and forth on her feet, antsy, waiting for the door to slide open. It's barely apart before she tangles the fingers of her right hand with Erin's and practically drags her out of the elevator.

It's an innocent gesture – nothing more than friendly, Erin convinces herself – but she can't help but feel a slight tingle up her arm with the contact. How can this woman supercharge her with a mere handhold? When they step further down the hallway and Holtz lets her go, she almost lets out a whine.

They exit the hospital, Holtz a few steps ahead. She lifts her chin and closes her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose. A soft breeze brushes by and musses the toss of waves on the top of her head. Standing on the sidewalk, she lets herself breathe in the distinctive scent of New York City that burns her lungs but makes her feel more alive than she ever has.

Erin doesn't dare interrupt Holtzmann's serenity. She watches in adoration for a few moments until Holtz turns to her and flashes that beautiful, dimple-adorned smile that started this hopeless crush.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Holtzmann asks, gesturing toward the city.

Erin grins, never taking her eyes off of Holtz. "Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it."

 **-X-X-X-X-**

As Erin fumbles with her apartment door key, she can't help but feel a little bit of remorse. This isn't exactly the way she expected to be bringing Holtz 'back to her place', but she's happy to have her here nevertheless.

Erin opens the door and gestures inside. "Welcome. Don't mind the mess. I didn't have time to clean up or anything."

Holtzmann rolls her eyes. "Mess. _Right._ " She walks over to a cedar wood table tucked in the corner with an array of images in dark brown frames. Erin watches as Holtz runs her fingertips over the glass, tracing an image of the Ghostbusters team before settling on one of just the two of them. They each have an arm around the other and Holtz's head is resting on her shoulder. Jillian lingers in front of the picture for a few moments, as though the memories will seep through her fingertips and into her subconscious.

"We look really happy here," Holtzmann says quietly. Her eyes remain focused on the frame.

Erin pauses and bites her lip. "Yeah, we were."

Holtz stands there in silence. She nervously scratches at her forearm until Erin steps forward and stops her.

"C'mon, I'll show you the bedroom."

The suggestion – _thankfully_ \- puts a smile on Holtzmann's face. "Can't say no to that," she teases, bouncing playfully behind Erin as they walk down the hallway.

Erin leads Holtzmann to the guest bedroom, ushering her inside with a wave of her hand. "You can sleep here, if you'd like, or you can take the master bedroom." She gestures across the hall toward her own bedroom. She pauses for a comment from Holtz. However, she says nothing and just looks around intently, taking in everything from the scent of the lemon lavender Yankee Candle oil-plugin to the dark maroon color of the bedroom walls. "Here is great," she finally says, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"Can I get you anything?"

Holtzmann shakes her head. "I'm really tired." She runs her fingers through her hair. "I think I'm just going to take a nap for a bit."

Erin nods. "Right. Sounds good. You need as much rest as you can get right now." She reaches for the doorknob and pulls the door shut to give Holtzmann some privacy as she sleeps.

"Erin?" She hears her name softly through the door.

Erin cracks the door open and peeks through. "Hmmm?"

"Thank you."

She smiles and nods before closing the door behind her.

 **-X-X-X-X-**

Hours pass. Holtzmann sleeps soundly as Erin paces around the apartment, 'tidying' up despite the fact that it's perfectly clean. Organizing is her vice, her nervous habit, but she has to get out some of this pent-up energy that's bubbled as a result of all the fear and concern that's consumed her in the last 24 hours. She Swiffers and Cloroxes and Pine Sols, all the while keeping an ear out for Jillian down the hallway.

Once she's satisfied with the cleanliness of the house, she decides to give Abby and Patty a call at the firehouse to let them know Holtz is home.

 _Home_. She swoons at the thought of Holtzmann in her apartment being considered home.

"Hey Abby."

"Erin!" Abby exclaims. "How is Holtz?"

Erin glances down the hallway toward the closed bedroom door. "She's alright. She's back here at the apartment with me."

Abby gasps. "Why didn't you tell us?! We would have come to see her-"

"No, not today. She needs some rest," Erin interrupts. "She's really tired."

"Understandably." Silence. "What does she remember?"

Erin bites her lip and ponders before responding. "She says it's fuzzy. We haven't talked much about it, but I'm trying not to push her. It's only been a day."

"Right." Abby's voice sounds glum.

"She'll get there," Erin insists, and she's not exactly certain whether she's trying to convince Abby of the fact, or herself.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun sets, leaving darkness in its wake. Rainstorms slowly creep into New York City and Erin begins to hear the rumblings of thunder from her living room. She's always loved the rain; when moderate storms come through the city, she makes it a habit to watch from her balcony. Tonight, she decides, will not be an exception.

With Holtzmann content in the guest bedroom, Erin grabs a blanket and her cell phone and makes her way outside. Lightning brightly peppers the sky, followed not long thereafter with louder booms of thunder. Excitedly, she curls up in a chair and watches the storms grow in intensity. Rain begins to fall and hits the apartment roof with a ' _tink, tink, tink_ '; it's soothing and calm, and despite the insanity of the last 24 hours, Erin knows she'll sleep like a rock tonight.

Erin closes her eyes and breaths slowly but evenly, allowing herself to get lost in the storm around her. She's at the brink of sleep when she hears the sliding door of the balcony swish open. She opens her eyes and blinks a few times, her sight blurry from dozing. "Holtz?"

"That's my name," Holtzmann replies before grabbing a plastic lawn chair and pulling it next to where Erin sits.

Erin straightens a little in her seat and fixes the blanket that is haphazardly draped across her. "How are you feeling?"

Holtzmann shrugs.

"How's your head?"

Holtzmann scrunches her face and brings her hand to the bandage on her forehead.

"Itchy." She scratches at it a little, then winces.

"Hey!" Erin reaches forward and swats Holtzmann's hand away. "Don't scratch."

In true fashion, Holtzmann blows a raspberry.

Just as mom-mode is about to kick into full gear, a particularly strong wave of thunder passes through with a ' _crash!_ ' Erin jumps and grabs for Holtzmann's hand, giving it a reflexive squeeze. Her heart is beating so fast, pounding in her throat, that she doesn't even realize she's holding it until Holtz gives a soft, quick squeeze back. Embarrassed, she pulls away.

"I've always loved the rain," Holtzmann says, promptly changing the subject from the recent handholding.

"Oh really?" Erin smiles a little at the idea of them having something so simple in common.

"Well, I _think_ I do."

There's a beat, and Erin frowns. She opens her mouth to say something before Holtzmann bursts out laughing.

"That was a memory loss joke. Relax, Gilbert." Holtzmann reaches out and ruffles Erin's hair, which is slightly damp from the rain that has crept in the balcony with the wind.

Erin continues to scowl. "That wasn't funny."

"I'm sorry," Holtzmann apologizes, and with the sad puppy dog eyes she's giving, she looks genuinely sincere. "If I don't laugh, I'll cry about it, right?" She chuckles breathily, but there's a hint of sadness behind it.

Erin rings her hands in her lap. "This might be a loaded question, but what _do_ you remember? I know you said your memories are kind of like an outline. But, is everything that way? Or only _some_ things? Do you remember your childhood, or going to school, or your first job? Or-?" She's speaking so fast and barely breathing but she's not sure she'll have the nerve otherwise to fully ask the questions she's having.

"I remember my childhood. I remember a lot of things." Holtzmann pauses and scrunches her forehead. "Recent things seem a little fuzzy. I know I'm a scientist. I remember teaching as a professor."

Erin's eyes grow wide. "You actually _taught_? I know you worked with Abby, but I didn't know you-"

"Abby?" Holtzmann asks. Her eyebrows are raised questioningly.

Erin's heart sinks. "You don't remember Abby?"

Holtzmann chews at the inside of her mouth, and Erin swears she sees little tears brimming on Holtz's eyes. It's the rain, Erin tries to convince herself.

"Once you're ready, I'll bring you in to meet the whole team," Erin assures, patting Holtzmann's hand, which, in turn, elicits a small smile from the engineer. "They love you _almost_ as much as I do." It's an innocent enough comment, could be considered friendly in some circles, but it comes out of Erin's mouth like word vomit, and she instantly regrets it. As if Holtzmann hasn't been through enough in the last day, all she needs is a confession of love by someone she barely remembers to be the icing on the cake.

Instead, Holtzmann only smiles wider, and Erin is convinced she sees a tiny blush creep on her cheeks. It only makes her heart beat more wildly in her chest.

The rain subsides and the night air grows chilly. Despite being under a blanket, Erin is chilly, but Holtzmann's tiny shiver solidifies the need to go back inside. Erin suggests a nice long shower – one that Holtz hasn't had since before the accident – and she agrees with little objection. Together, they make their way down the hallway toward the bathroom. Erin reaches into the linen closet outside of the room and grabs a large, deep purple bath towel and a matching washcloth. Next, she steps into the bathroom, with Holtzmann only a few steps behind, and leaves the two items on the sink. "Well, here you go," Erin says awkwardly, gesturing around the tiny bathroom. She clears her throat and walks toward the shower, giving the knob a little turn to let a stream of water pour of the faucet. It takes a moment for the water to heat up to an appropriate temperature, but once it seems satisfactory, she switches the tub over to the shower setting and waves Holtzmann toward it.

Erin stands there, still awkward as ever. "I guess I'll leave you to it, then." She laughs nervously and wipes at the back of her neck with her palm.

Holtzmann, without a hint of shyness, begins to undress, and it takes but a moment before Erin races out of the bathroom like a bat out of hell, closing the door behind a little too hard that it slams with a ' _thud!_ '

 **-X-X-X-X-**

Erin fidgets on the couch, clicking through an endless array of channels with her remote, but not really paying attention to what's on the screen. She's more interested in the woman currently showering in her bathroom and the particular way her presence causes her heart to burst out of her chest. ' _That can't be healthy_ ,' Erin thinks to herself, resting a hand over her heart and feeling the steady ' _thump, thump, thump_ ' beneath it.

After three full rounds of scrolling through the TV channel guide, she finally selects a rerun of Chopped on the Food Network. She settles in the chair and tries to relax despite the thought of Holtzmann naked and sudsy. Her imagination, Erin finds, is particularly active.

Amongst the ingredients and techniques and contestants, Erin hears Holtzmann call her name from down the hallway. Like a gazelle, she gallops, bursting open the door without a second thought. "What? What's wrong?" Erin asks, breathless, looking back and forth around the bathroom for Holtzmann.

She's pleasantly surprised, however, to find the woman sitting on the closed toilet seat, wrapped in the towel Erin had given her. Her blonde hair is damp and brown from the shower and falls in waves down her neck and against her shoulders. Water trickles down the ends of her hair and across her chest; Erin catches herself staring and promptly looks away. "Wh-what's wrong?" she repeats, looking down at her feet.

"My head," Holtzmann says simply, pointing toward it. "Can you re-bandage it?"

It's in that moment that Erin first notices the wound that spreads across Holtz's upper forehead. Without a bandage, it looks particularly nasty and deep, light red and swollen around the edges while a darker, almost black-ish red in the center at the deepest point. "Of course," Erin finally responds, reaching into the medicine cabinet for her first aid kit. Carefully, she takes out an alcohol swab, ointment and some fresh gauze, then turns to Holtzmann. "Ready?"

Holtzmann nods.

With the utmost care, Erin opens the alcohol pad and brings it to Holtz's forehead. "This is probably going to hurt," she warns. She waits a moment for Holtzmann to protest – or say anything for that matter – but she doesn't.

Erin barely brushes the alcohol pad against Holtz's forehead before she sucks in a sharp breath between her teeth and winces.

Erin frowns. "Are you ok?"

"Mmmmmhm," Holtzmann replies, pained. She swallows slowly and, through her pain, watches Erin intently. Erin, on the other hand, is so focused on tending to the wound that she doesn't even notice Holtz's gauzing. She's quick yet gentle, her fingers working swiftly to clean and cover Holtzmann's forehead. It only takes a few minutes for Erin to complete her work.

"There, good as new," Erin says with a smile. She lets her fingertips trace across Jillian's forehead down to the few burns peppered across her cheek and neck. The skin there is hot and raw, and Erin is careful to trace around it.

Erin's not sure whether it's the steaminess of the bathroom or the insurmountable spark of electricity between them, but the only thing she can think about is Holtzmann's soft, pink lips and the way she so desperately wants to kiss them.

"Erin?" Holtzmann whispers, never breaking eye contact.

"Yes?" Erin steps a little closer, brushing her fingertips across Holtz's lips.

"I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"

Erin laughs so hard she snorts.

 **-X-X-X-X-**

"I'm sorry this is so dismal," Erin apologizes, carrying a paper plate into the living room where Holtzmann is sprawled across the couch. "I'll go shopping in the morning, but hopefully this will carry you over for now." She hands the assortment of snacks over to Holtz, now dressed in one of Erin's t-shirts and sweats, who sits up and looks down at what's been placed in front of her, then over to the television, which now shows yet another rerun of Chopped. One chef, in particular, has made a grand dessert of chocolate mousse cake with a fresh raspberry sauce and homemade mint ice cream. It's a far cry from the wrinkly grapes, American cheese and slightly stale crackers on her plate, but Holtzmann doesn't complain. She thanks Erin with a smile and munches on the cheese.

Erin returns to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of iced tea. She sips on it slowly, savoring its cool, lemony taste, before making her way back into the living room. Holtzmann is intently watching the show, a cracker half out of her mouth as she waits in anticipation for the winner to be announced. The sight makes Erin laugh. "Who do you want to win?" Erin asks, her weak attempt at small talk. She sits down next to Holtzmann.

"Chef Plaisance," Holtz responds, her eyes glued to the screen. "The French are always the best cooks. And good in bed."

Erin almost chokes on her iced tea. Holtzmann simply winks at her before turning her head back toward the television.

"You know this from experience then?" Erin asks, trying her best to play it cool. The way her voice cracks slightly, however, doesn't help matters.

"Sorry, can't remember," Holtzmann teases, tapping the top of her head with her index finger.

When Chef Plaisance wins by what appears to be a landslide – the judges have nothing by praise for all three of her dishes – Holtzmann celebrates with a cheer. "Knew she'd win," she says, quite proud of herself.

When the episode is over, Erin attempts to change the channel, but when she sees Holtzmann's pout out of the corner of her eye, she puts the remote down and lets the Chopped marathon continue. She pretends to ignore the way Holtz's eyes light up when the next episode starts, but something about it causes her whole body to prickle with warmth. It's a comforting warmth – not the heat of passion, but the enveloping warmth of something softer, sweeter; it's a warmth, Erin decides, that she could get _very_ used to.


End file.
